


Waptor Twapping

by Saesama



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Battle, Cultural Differences, Friendship, Lwa | Loa | L'wha, Raptors, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Shamanism, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saesama/pseuds/Saesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early days of the Horde in Kalimdor, conditions were harsh and morale was low.</p><p>But even in such an unforgiving land, friendships were forged, alliances were honed, and hope was found.</p><p>Set when the Horde meets the tauren, and the trolls regain the favor of their gods.</p><p> </p><p>(Or, Vol'jin chokes out a raptor. Again.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waptor Twapping

Thrall topped the small rise and looked around, his heart soaring in his chest. Mulgore was a beautiful land, rich and rolling, and the wind that ruffled Snowsong's fur tasted of freedom. Last night, he'd suggested a scouting tour, small groups of orcs and trolls led by tauren knowledgeable in the area, to explore and familiarize themselves with their new allies and the lands they would help defend. It was a solid, sensible plan, backed fully by the leaders and advisers of all three races.

He only barely admitted to himself that the chance to get out of camp and _ride_ was his initial motivation.

Reveling in the breeze through his braids, he looked back down the rise at his companions. Baine, young son to the Tauren chieftain, looked completely at ease on his plodding kodu. If he hadn't seen how fast the great beasts could move and the skill with which Baine wielded his axes, he'd have taken the tauren as a farmer's son, rather than an already-respected warrior.

The hidden speed of the beasts was probably the only reason their other two companions deigned to ride. Neither Vol'jin nor Zalazane were particularly happy about riding kodu, though neither voiced a complaint about the beasts. The narrow trolls looked somewhat comical on such wide mounts, and Thrall's amusement was tempered by regret. They hadn't the room on the ships to bring any of the adult raptors (not to mention, the things were dreadfully wary of the wolves) and only a few nests and a juvenile pair had survived the journey. It would be some time before the raptor packs were back up to strength. Thrall had silently promised that, should they ever befriend a Mage who knew the portal spell, his first order would be to go back to the shattered islands and rescue some of the great lizards.

But that was a thought for another day. For now, Vol'jin was looking relaxed for the first time in weeks, his head high as he scented the air. Zalazane had come out from behind his rush'kha mask, wary but no longer scowling at everything he saw. It gave Thrall hope for the future of all of the trolls.

"Your land is beautiful, Bloodhoof," he said, as the three kodu met Snowsong at the top of the rise. "A shame, that it is so threatened."

Baine smiled in the slow way of the tauren, rolling his massive shoulders in a shrug. "The Earth Mother shares her bounty with all of her children," he said, "Even if those children are murderous savages."

Vol'jin grinned at Thrall over Baine's shoulder. "The tauren don't seem _dat_ murderous t'me," he said, schooling his features into blinking innocence when Baine twisted in his saddle to give him a bland look.

Thrall coughed to hide his smile. "No baiting each other," he said, not as much of a warning as he could have put into the words. Despite the heavy responsibilities of their various stations, they were all close enough in age that this felt like an outing between friends, a hunt that they should have been able to indulge in as young adults of their tribes. They had a mission to attend to, but Thrall, at least, was determined to steal back a tiny bit of the youth they had lost.

Zalazane lifted his foot from the stirrups long enough to shove Vol'jin in the side. "You keep teasin'," he warned. "An' this beastie gonna buck ya off and eat you."

Vol'jin peered down at the back of his kodu's head. "Ain't dey plant eaters?"

Baine's placid expression was impressive, though Thrall caught the amusement in his expressive eyes. "Mostly," he said mildly. "But didn't you say that there were trolls who grew moss in their fur? It's their favorite food."

"Now who be teasin'?" Vol'jin grumbled. Thrall didn't bother hiding his grin again.

They roved further east, into the windswept lands Baine called the Barrens. If they kept going, he explained, they would pass through a dusty red desert and then find the ocean. The centaurs struck from the Barrens, and it didn't take long to find an old herd-track, untrod for what seemed to be months. With it, they made good time, sweeping north.

The sun was low enough that Thrall began looking around for a good campsite, when he glimpsed Vol'jin pull his mount up short. The troll tilted his head, listening, then looked at Zalazane. "Hear dat, mon?"

Zalazane paused to listen as well, his eyes gone wide. Baine shook his head. "Raptor," he muttered.

Thrall swore under his breath and looked around. He had the best eyesight of all of them, but by far the worst hearing. Vol'jin jerked his chin towards a small copse of trees at the foot of a hill and swung his bow from the back of his saddle.

Almost as if on cue, the raptor stalking them burst from beneath the trees. It was a juvenile, bright red and just growing into its claws. It would never get the chance. Vol'jin's arrow caught it in the flank, turning its charge into an ungainly slam into the dirt. A muttered word from Zalazane silenced its cries, though Vol'jin had to avoid snapping teeth when he dismounted to finish it with his glaive.

Baine shifted uneasily atop his mount. "They come out of the desert," he explained, as Vol'jin pried the brute's jaws apart to examine its teeth. "But we never see ones this young so far south, not alone. There must be a pack nearby."

Zalazane sniffed the air, his eyes half-closed and hazy, and Thrall knew he was scenting more than just the wind. "There," he said, pointing towards the hill. "Whole family."

Both trolls scrambled up the hill, flattening themselves at the crest. Thrall looked at Baine and followed. He heard a sigh and the sound of the tauren dismounting a moment later.

Vol'jin waved them both down as they came upon the trolls. Thrall obliged, crawling the last few feet, and then he could see why. The land dropped sharply, not quite a cliff, down into rolling scrub. Scraggly trees dotted the area, and beneath each were a number of brilliant raptors, sunning or grooming each other or squabbling over scraps of a kill. There were maybe two dozen adults and half as many juveniles, mostly reds with a few other colors sprinkled in. They were larger than the troll raptors, taller even than Zalazane if he stood upright.

Thrall glanced at his companions. Baine looked wary but not overly perturbed. The trolls, however, watched the pack below with a strange focus. Zalazane nudged Vol'jin with his elbow. "Ya want dat big blue motherfucker, don'cha?"

"I do want dat big blue motherfucker," Vol'jin agreed. "Jus' like you want dat purple mother." He wiggled back away from the drop and stood. "And we gonna get 'em."

Zalazane whipped his head around. "You kidding."

"Nah." Vol'jin waved his hand over his shoulder as he started back to the kodu.

Zalazane swore and chased after him. Thrall looked at Baine. "Do your people trap raptors?" he asked.

Baine shook his shaggy head. "Not unless a pack strays too close to a village, never for food. Do trolls eat them?"

"Probably," Thrall said, following after the two, the sounds of bickering in Zandali already filtering up through the thin copse. "But they also tame and ride them."

Baine looked briefly horrified. "They ride raptors?"

"And keep cobras as pets. Strange, aren't they?"

Baine blew air from his nose in a disbelieving snort. "Says the green creature that rides a _wolf_."

"Hey, now."

"Mon, you a fucking lunatic," Zalazane snapped, as they emerged from the trees. Thrall made a note to translate the Zandali for Baine later. "Why we gotta do this now?"

Vol'jin, compared to Zalazane's obvious agitation, was calm and unyielding. "'Cause we gotta," he said, deliberately in orcish. "Roll your bones if ya don' believe me. But the loa want us to do dis, an' take back some of what we lose."

Zalazane shot Baine and Thrall an unhappy look. "You really think the loa want us to do this now?" he asked. "With... outsiders with us?"

Vol'jin was quiet a long moment. "I want dem here," he said finally. "I want the whole damn world here, to watch us do dis. I want dem all to see dat we ain't a broken tribe, hiding behind orcs. We be trolls, an' this be proof that the loa approve of our tribe, of breakin' away from the Gurubashi and Zandalari." He pointed towards the hidden pack. "We gonna go catch us some raptors and bring 'em back to our people and prove dat we ain't been abandoned."

Zalazane glared at Vol'jin for another few seconds, then tore his gaze away with a huff, capitulating. "We get eaten," he muttered, in orcish. "I be haunting your ghost."

"Deal," Vol'jin grinned. He grabbed the dead raptor by the hind claw and dragged it towards Snowsong and the kodu. "Tomorrow night, you gonna thank me."

Later, after they established a camp, Thrall looked up from tending the fire. "So," he said, careful to keep his tone neutral. "You can really tame wild adult raptors?"

"Nah." Vol'jin gestured vaguely, not looking up from skinning the raptor. "Adults be too stubborn for riding. We gonna catch two, male an' female, and take 'em back as new stock. Dey be bigger than ours, good blood. Later on, we can catch some of de eggs and babies to raise for riding, but dat be later, once we settled. For now, it be enough to have adults who can breed, an' dey respect us if we catch 'em. Ol' Gonk be making sure of dat."

"The raptor loa?" Thrall asked. When Vol'jin nodded, Thrall frowned thoughtfully. "Did you ever think to ask?"

Both trolls stopped their tasks and looked at him. Thrall shrugged. "All creatures have Spirits that can be spoken to. A shaman doesn't go through gods or loa, we speak to the Spirits of the Wild. Sometimes, we're told no, sometimes not. I can ask the Spirit of the raptor if he is willing to bind this pack to your tribe."

Zalazane looked offended. Vol'jin shrugged. "We know spirits," he said. "Ask, if ya want." When Zalazane snapped around to glare at him, he grinned lazily. "I don' expect a polite answer, but go ahead. If it works, I might sleep tomorrow wit’ all my fingers."

Baine shook his head, sitting back. "Forgive me," he said, very polite, "If I think you all mad."

"You get used to it," Thrall said, standing. He stood with his back to the fire and kicked off his boots to dig his toes into the earth. Fire was a predator element, and the earth cradled all beasts who walked on it. The elements wouldn't interfere with the Spirits of the Wilds, but their support certainly made him feel better.

' _Spirit of the raptor,_ ' he sent, his eyes closed, ' _I ask for your aid, in the name of my friends._ ' He opened his eyes and a cloudy white raptor stood before him, its head cocked, staring at him. Dimly, he heard Baine mutter something, heard Zalazane take a deep breath. ' _Spirit, long is the bond between raptor and troll. I ask you now if the pack beyond the hill will honor that bond. Will they act as mounts, and hunt beside the trolls, in exchange for protection and a safe place to rear their nests?_ '

The Spirit's head twitched, bird-like, to stare at him with one eye, then the other. It did not respond, and Thrall felt a slow frisson of unease crawl up his spine. Something was... off. Nothing he could put his finger on, not at first, but the more he looked at the being, the worse the feeling got.

Not so dimly, he noticed Vol'jin and Baine staring at the Spirit, noticed Zalazane scratching strange symbols into the dirt. That Vol'jin or Zalazane could see the Spirit didn't distress him. That Baine, a warrior with no training in magic, could see it rocked him badly.

He was not looking at a Spirit of the Wilds.

The great raptor, most likely hearing his thoughts, grinned widely, showing off far too many rows of teeth. Something had changed subtly in its appearance; it was hunched more, its arms longer, more humanoid, more... trollish. "Shadow Hunter," it said, out loud, its voice a rough, strange sound. It spoke Zandali, Thrall was certain, but he understood the words as if they were orcish. "What be this? You thinkin' to get out of da hunt?"

Vol'jin spread his hands, placating. "It be our friend's way, to ask before he take, Great Spirit" he explained. "Politeness never hurt no one."

The raptor, the loa, snorted, stepping closer to Thrall, peering at him. "Dese shaman be strange ones," he said. Thrall didn't back down, though he did tense as those many teeth came very close to his face. "T’ink I like druids better." He stepped back, turning to eye Vol'jin and Zalazane warily. "What say you, witch doctor? Ya gonna give up de old ways, gonna ask for favors instead of taking what's yours?"

Zalazane's mouth took on a stubborn set, though he bowed low. "Never, Great Spirit," he swore.

"Good."Gonk turned back to Thrall, and he looked less and more like a raptor with every passing moment, the essence of a raptor as seen by a troll's eyes, a primal thing from when this world was young. "Da spirit of the raptor be at my command, shaman," he said, stabbing a scaly finger in Thrall's direction. "If you askin' for you, I don' care, but ya don' ask for trolls. Dere be reasons for why dey do how dey do. Stick to ya wolves if ya want _polite_."

Thrall bowed and held the position. "My apologies, Great Spirit," he said.

Gonk gave him a curt nod and turned away, pausing when Zalazane spoke up. "Mighty Gonk," he said, a bit hurried, "Are you gonna warn da pack?"

Gonk squinted at him for a moment, then shook his head. "You find dem fair," he said. "If dey don' notice you, dat's dere fault."

"We thank ya," Vol'jin said. Gonk waved his hand dismissively and walked out of the circle of firelight, disappearing as if swallowed by living shadow.

Thrall let out a long, slow breath. The trolls looked at each other, inscrutable. The silence held, spun out, until Baine whuffed and stamped his hooves. All of his fur was standing on end and he gave a full-body shudder when they turned to look at him. "Mad," he repeated. Zalazane barked a laugh.

O o o

Morning was misty and cool. Thrall had drawn last watch and he woke up the trolls just as the horizon turned pink. He didn't wake Baine, but the tauren got up anyway while the trolls were praying their weird voodoo chants. He watched them for a moment, then shook his head and stirred up the fire to cook raptor meat for breakfast. Slightly baffled acceptance seemed to be Baine's preferred method of dealing with his new allies, a state that Thrall really couldn't fault him on.

The trolls joined them just as the sun started to shine through the distant mountain peaks. The night before, Zalazane had made a crude skin of raptor flesh and filled it with the beast's blood, setting it near the fire to keep warm and not congeal. Now both trolls wore it like paint, strange symbols drying on their hides, the dark blood a stark contrast against the blue. More of the raptor's skin was stripped and braided into short ropes, a coil around each troll's forearm, to use as lassos and, hopefully, leads. They were stripped to the waist and Vol'jin handed Thrall his glaive and Zalazane's staff without a word. They would dive into a wild raptor nest, armed only with their ropes and their wits, as trolls had for centuries.

Thrall privately agreed with Baine; trolls were mad.

Thrall and Baine watched from the crest of the hill as the trolls slunk down into the scrub. From their vantage point, they could see the entire of the broad valley, from the trees where the raptors nested to a series of low hillocks and beyond to a creek. It was lovely, and Thrall filled his lungs with the crisp morning air.

"Peaceful, isn't it?" Baine murmured.

"It is," Thrall agreed. He searched the steep slope of the hill; he'd taken his eyes off the trolls, and thus lost them in the shadows, until he spotted the bright crest of Vol'jin's hair sticking out of a bush. "Though, I think it's about to get very noisy."

The raptors were sunning themselves and warming up to the day, drowsy and lazy. One large blue male - Vol'jin's 'big blue motherfucker', if Thrall had to guess - lifted its great head and sniffed deeply. Then again and again, growing more agitated every time. Raptors nearby noticed his alarm and stirred themselves, swiveling to search the countryside.

Vol'jin burst from the bush, looking for a moment very much like a raptor himself. He sprinted across the ground, past two startled nests, and leapt at the blue male. The beast screamed and bucked, the troll clinging to its neck with a leg hooked over its back. Its scream was answered by another, an even larger female with brilliant violet stripes. The female roared and charged towards the blue, all teeth bared. Thrall didn't need a Spirit of the Wild to translate for him; the female was the blue's mate, and would kill Vol'jin for daring to attack their pack.

Zalazane sprung from a tree and landed square on the female's back. The remaining raptors scrambled out of range of flashing claws, crying their own alarm but not willing to close in on their huge brethren and their tenacious attackers. The two bucked and flailed, short forelegs trying in vain to reach the trolls, who were quickly unwinding their ropes.

"This is better than Darkmoon," Baine said, leaning forward as he watched. Thrall chuckled and stretched, pausing as something caught his eye.

Spears.

A small herd of strange creatures was crossing the creek, each with four hooves on the ground like a horse, but a humanoid torso where the neck should be. They each held a gleaming spear, and Thrall realized he was viewing a centaur for the first time. "Baine."

Baine sat up and followed his pointing hand, his eyes gone wide at the sight. "They're armed for the hunt," he said. "And a lot of them. I think they're going to clear out the nest!"

Thrall glanced back down. The female had given up on trying to throw Zalazane and was instead snapping at Vol'jin. Both trolls were yelling and trying to kick the two raptors apart without losing their feet - or worse. The rest of the pack stood at a distance, squawking and hopping in distress. The centaurs were headed directly for them. "Come on," he said, standing. "We're going to turn them."

"How?" Baine asked. It wasn't an argument, and he was following Thrall back down the hill.

Snowsong bound up to him, her hackles up as she sensed his distress. "I'll ride towards them," he said, kicking dirt over the guttering fire. "I'm willing to bet they've never seen a Frostwolf before."

"The wolf or the orc?" Baine asked, untying the kodu.

Thrall grinned briefly. "Either. You follow, with the other kodu. They're horses, right? If I can spook them, the sight of reinforcements might finish the job of changing their minds."

"They're as much horse as I am cow," Baine said, swinging up into his saddle. "They're barbarians, but they're not animals."

"I understand," Thrall said, climbing onto Snowsong. "I bet I spook them anyway."

They had to swing south to find a less steep way into the scrub. To the north, they could hear the screeching and bellowing of the raptor pack, hidden behind a few low hills. The centaurs, however, were downwind and now hidden by hills themselves. Thrall led the way in that direction, hoping to catch them in the flats near the river. They came over the last hill nearly on top of the herd. The centaurs were curving around east to stay downwind, and Snowsong bound forward without prompting to bite at the throat of one of the outriders.

Screams that sounded like neighs (or perhaps neighs that sounded like screams) pierced the air. The herd, larger than Thrall had initially seen, wheeled away, the injured warrior borne down under Snowsong's mass. Thrall bellowed his battle cry, while Snowsong howled in eerie harmony, blood dripping down her muzzle.

The herd responded in kind and charged.

Thrall wheeled Snowsong about and fled back the way they came. A quick glance back showed Baine close behind, the other kodu trained well enough to follow, and an angry herd just beyond. Baine urged his mount up at Snowsong's side. "They're not spooked!" he yelled.

"I noticed!" Thrall yelled back. "Can we slow them at the cliffs?"

"Snowsong can make it up fast enough, the kodu can't." He twisted briefly in his saddle to hack away a centaur that got too close, his axes flashing bright in the sun. "Any other ideas?"

Thrall swore. And paused. ' _Spirit of the raptor,_ ' he prayed desperately, ' _I do not ask this for the sake of bypassing the rituals of your people and my friends, but for our lives and those of your pack. These centaurs look to clear out your nests. Help us fight them, please._ '

There was a faint sensation of laughter in the back of his head. _'Lucky you da trolls already done, shaman. Head for da nest.'_ It wasn't the subtle wrongness of Gonk, but something clean and pure, a true Spirit of the wilds. He glimpsed, just barely in the corner of his vision, a misty white raptor veering north and he turned Snowsong in that direction.

"Where are you _going_?" Baine sounded at his wit's end. Thrall made a note to apologize later, but before he could respond, a spear sailed right past his ear and his explanation devolved into spirited cursing.

Despite his frustration, Baine and the kodu kept up with Snowsong as Thrall curved them back towards the raptor nest. He couldn't hear the cries of the raptors anymore, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the thundering of the hooves behind him or not. It was entirely possible that the raptor Spirit had meant that the trolls were done as in dead, and the pack was now calmed.

The noise that suddenly echoed over the scrub proved such thoughts wrong. Grom Hellscream's namesake was, without a doubt, the most terrifying noise Thrall had ever heard. But the screaming of an entire raptor pack, counterpointed by the mad cackling of two trolls, was high on the list. Despite the chill the sound gave him, Thrall grinned and turned Snowsong sharply back towards the pursuing herd.

He looked back just in time to see the raptor pack pour over the crest of a hill, Zalazane on the purple female at the fore, Vol'jin on the blue male just behind. Vol'jin whooped and the pack shrieked back and the centaur bellowed in alarm. Thrall laughed at the dumbfounded look on the centaur leader's face, as he held out Vol'jin's glaive to one side and Zalazane's staff to the other, and both were snatched from his hands by the passing trolls. The raptors met the centaurs with a clash of spears and claws and screaming. This battle wasn't important enough to justify calling upon the elements, but Thrall cheerfully waded into the battle with the Doomhammer swinging and Snowsong biting. The raptors all ignored Snowsong and the kodu, and Thrall strove to not hit any of the great lizards in passing. 

Baine, at some point, had given up on riding and was on his own hooves, laying into the centaurs with both axes and a good deal of swearing. Several centaurs chose to focus on the incensed tauren vice the raptor pack and had him surrounded, harrying him with their spears. Thrall considered, briefly, providing him aid, when Baine snatched a spear from one of the centaur, and gave it right back to the unfortunate creature via the eye socket. Baine would be fine on his own, and, from the looks of it, had a great deal of frustration to work out.

Neither troll seemed inclined to call upon their voodoo, but Zalazane swung his staff hard enough to stave in skulls and Vol'jin's glaive was a bright arc of metal and blood. They both yelled and cackled in their own tongue, driving the raptor pack to greater heights of ferocity. Any centaur that stumbled or attempted to retreat was set upon by teeth and claws, and Zalazane's purple mount seemed particularly vicious in its attacks. There would be no mercy given here, and no retreating.

A few centaurs did try to escape and were run down by screeching raptors. The rest died fighting, but even so, the battle was over quickly. All but the mounted raptors edged away quickly, stamping their feet in distress and squawking at their two large companions. Vol'jin flapped a hand at them and a few of the larger remaining raptors herded up their kin and shuffled them away, back to the nest. The purple female snapped half-heartedly at Vol'jin's foot and subsided.

One of the kodu was down with a spear in its throat, and Baine stomped over to put it out of its misery. He muttered a short prayer over the dead beast and turned towards Thrall, clearly intending to give the Warchief a piece of his mind, but before he could, Zalazane bowed low over his mount's neck. "Thanks be in order, Master Bloodhoof," the witch doctor said, sincere and perhaps a bit rueful. "Had ya not taken us on dis path, we wouldn't have a bit of hope ta bring back to our people." 

Baine's shoulders dropped, the fight taken out of him as clean as if it had been cut free. "It was strictly chance," he said, "Not design."

"Trolls hold that there's no such thing as coincidence," Thrall pointed out.

Baine gave Thrall a hard look before he returned Zalazane's bow, his head dipped far enough to point his horns down. "Then I am honored, my friends," he said, "To have done well by you."

Later, after they made a new camp further back in Mulgore’s direction, Thrall humbly accepted a short, terse, well-deserved and very harsh tongue-lashing from Baine on fighting centaurs and cavalry techniques. The young tauren was respectful, but pulled no punches in describing Thrall’s plan as ‘a murloc teasing a quillboar’. Thrall immediately decided he wanted Baine as the tauren liaison to the Horde; such honesty was refreshing, and Thrall knew he needed people around him willing to tell him when he was stepping on the trail to disaster.

He found the trolls inspecting one of the centaur corpses they’d dragged along to feed the raptors. Zalazane crouched beside the dead beast, prodding it cautiously. “Ya sure, mon?” he asked dubiously. 

Vol’jin shrugged. “It be horse. Horse be good eatin’.”

“Horse be gamey.”

“I _like_ gamey.”

Thrall decided his question could wait until later.

O o o

Later turned out to be the next day, after they made it back to the Horde encampment at the base of Thunder Bluff. They were spotted well out and were greeted by a crowd of cheering trolls that gathered around Vol’jin and Zalazane to inspect their new mounts. Thrall let them have their celebration and went to find Grom and Cairne to discuss the short fight against the centaurs.

Night fell, and Thrall found Vol’jin and Baine sitting on one of the cliffs above the Horde camp, sharing the names and shapes of the constellations. Thrall sat on Vol’jin’s other side, curious about the conversation; with the exception of a few important navigational aids, the orcs hadn’t begun to name the stars yet.

He noticed Vol'jin was missing a toe. He declined to remark upon it.

The conversation died down into companionable silence, until Vol’jin kicked Thrall in the side of the foot. “What be on ya mind, Warchief?”

Thrall leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and looked down at the encampment below. “The other night,” he said slowly, “You said that this would prove that the trolls aren’t hiding behind the orcs, that you haven’t been abandoned by your gods. Are there some who believe that?”

“Some,” Vol’jin replied, quiet. “My papa, he strip a lot of de old traditions outta us when we leave the Gurubashi. Old hatreds, old roles, gods he feel be poison on our souls. Dem dat follow him follow him, but some be feelin’ dat the loss of our islands be a sign, dat we go too far from de old ways.”

“You feel otherwise?” Baine asked softly.

“I know otherwise.” Vol’jin’s voice held a note of steel. “Da trick be getting’ my people t’ see dat.”

“You think this will work?” Thrall asked.

Vol’jin pointed down at the camp. The two adult raptors were staked in the makeshift pen with the infants and two juveniles, surrounded on all sides by curious trolls. The female was bedded down with the infants cuddled against her flank, and the male had deigned to allow two of the young male trolls to rub down its pebbled hide with boar-bristle brushes. “I know dat, too,” he said, his mouth curving around his tusks into a rare, genuine smile.

The breeze that stirred the long grasses turned into a harsh wind as it traveled up the side of the cliff. With the sudden gust came a burst of sound from the camp below; orcish grunts and tauren rumbles, and bright, wondering exclamations in Zandali.

It sounded a lot like hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk about how accurate this is, timeline-wise, but I will write buddyfic about Thrall and Vol'jin and Baine being young beautiful assholes until my fingers bleed.


End file.
